Chapter 31
Ceri
“Ouch!” I hissed and pulled my finger back, a bloom of blood appearing where I’d just poked myself with a needle.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, slamming down the needle, thread, and dress that I was currently stitching.
I couldn’t concentrate on anything, not when Cillian was fighting for his life.
I’d been by his side every day, but his mother had finally ordered me to go home to sleep, eat, and rest. The only problem was I couldn’t do any of those things.
So I decided to work.
I stared at the blood trailing down my finger. Clearly I couldn’t do that either.
Father was upstairs eating supper. I’d told him I would join him shortly, but all I wanted to do was run back to the castle and sit by Cillian, willing him to wake up.
The image of his writhing body when I’d found him haunted me. Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked away as I thought about what might have happened if Margaret hadn’t found him in time, if Enid hadn’t been there to help detox his body from all the heartstopper he’d taken.
The bell over the door rang, and I didn’t even bother looking up. “We’re closed,” I said.
“Even for a wine and cheese night?”
My head snapped up as I saw Marsten holding a bottle of wine and a plate of various cheeses while Meera sat on the floor, looking as bored as always.
I stood quickly, dashing away my tears and straightening my dress. “What are you all doing here?”
“Well, we’ve invited you out countless times, and every time, you say no.” Marsten clucked. “So we decided to bring the party to you.”
“He decided to,” Meera said. “I only came because I was promised warm milk.”
Marsten rolled his eyes. “Yes, Meera, I’ll get you your warm milk. Now go sit down and stop pretending like you weren’t jabbering on about how worried you were for Ceri.”
I stared at them, unable to understand what was happening. “You came here? But why?”
They stopped on their way to the couch, shooting me confused looks. “Because we’re your friends,” Marsten finally said. “And you’ve had a horrible week. We didn’t want you to be alone.”
Meera tipped her head in agreement.
“Oh.” Godwitches, I was going to start crying all over again. I inhaled a shaky breath. “In that case, I’m going to need some of that wine.”
* * *
Marsten strolled out of the back room, now wearing a full ball gown that swished around his ankles.
He put the back of his hand against his head and stuck a bare leg out of the slit in the side of the bright red gown. “What do we think?”
Meera looked up from where she was lapping warm milk. “Not complete shite.”
Marsten straightened. “I think that was actually a compliment.”
“Oh my gosh.” My hands went to my cheeks. “That dress looks like it was made for you.”
Marsten twirled and looked at himself in the mirror. “Do you think so?”
I raced across the room and adjusted the shoulder straps to lay over his biceps. “Why have I been making trousers and blouses for you all these years when you could be wearing things like this?”
Marsten cocked his head, his face glowing in a way I’d never seen before.
“Look at you,” I said. “You’re radiant. That’s it. I’m making you a new wardrobe.”
“He’s so hairy he doesn’t even need clothes,” Meera mumbled.
Marsten shot the cat a look. “This town would not be able to handle this”—he gestured to his body—“without clothes.”
I laughed, and even Meera snorted into her milk. “You humans are so precious about nudity. It’s just a body. A vessel. It means nothing.”
“Excuse you,” Marsten said. “This body turns heads.”
I nodded, staring at his tall, muscular form next to my short, plump one. “I have to agree with him, Meera. I don’t think Fairwitch Isle could handle Marsten unclothed.”
Marsten bumped me with his hip. “You either. Look at those luscious curves.”
I studied my wide hips and bosom, wrapped up tight in my sapphire blue dress with golden buttons in the shape of little hearts. “True. Meera, we simply cannot walk outside naked. The entire town would collapse from the absolute wonder of our bodies.”
Meera just stared from her bowl. “Whatever you say.”
Marsten grabbed my hand and led me back to the couch. He plopped down, crossing one leg over another. “I see why women like these so much. They’re so airy,” he said.
“You do know the godwitches used to wear skirts for that reason,” Meera said. “All the godwitches with penises wore them. And they never wore undergarments. I saw so many penises in the time of the godwitches.”
Marsten reached over and grabbed his glass of wine from the table next to the couch. “Sounds like a good time to me.”
I rolled my eyes right as Margaret appeared in a painting that hung over my sewing desk in the corner. “He’s awake.” She bent over. “Oh, cramp. I have a cramp. But he’s awake. Prince Cillian, that is. He’s . . .”
“Awake?” Meera finished.
Margaret finally straightened, bracing a hand against the frame of the painting. “Yes.”
I froze, all the tension that had bled from my body over the last few hours returning. I hadn’t forgotten about Cillian, but I had relaxed for the first time in over a week. I’d been able to laugh and drink and eat. To function. Now all that fear returned as I waited for Margaret to tell me more.
Marsten’s arm wound around my shoulders, and Meera was curled around my leg.
“We’re here for you,” Marsten said.
“Is he okay?” I asked, voice wobbling.
Margaret broke into a smile. “Yes. It’s going to be a long recovery, but the high prince is okay. He’s asleep now. Resting. But Mrs. Wolfgang sent me to tell you. He’s been asking for you.”
I sniffled. “Thank you, Margaret,” I said through tears.
“I should get back. There are more messages to deliver, but he’s going to be okay, Ceri.”
She disappeared, and I broke into sobs that racked my body while Marsten and Meera held me.
I had no idea how long I cried for. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Out of relief, out of anger, out of sadness. Maybe all of it.
The tears finally stopped, and I let out a little hiccup as Marsten handed me a handkerchief. I blew into it, the sound loud and offensive, but Meera didn’t even make a single sarcastic comment. “Sorry,” I said.
“Oh, honey.” Marsten squeezed me tighter. “You don’t have to apologize. The love of your life just almost died from a drug addiction that no one knew about.”
“Well, everyone knows now,” Meera pointed out.
“The love of my life?” I pulled back, staring at Marsten with wide eyes. “That’s what you all think about Cillian and me?”
He gave me a look that said “Seriously?”
I blew out a breath. “Doesn’t that bother you all? I mean, we’re competing against each other to be his queen.”
Meera put a paw against her chest. “No one is competing for that man except you, Cerriwen Morgane.”
“It’s not even a competition,” Marsten said. “Every time we walk into a room, the only person he pays any attention to is you.”
“No, that’s not . . .” I remembered the tent, how close we’d been to kissing before we got interrupted.
“Yes, I have feelings for Cillian. I’ve had feelings for him my entire life, I think.
But he’s never shown any interest in me.
Not like that. Except for a few times that I probably misinterpreted. ”
“Aw, look at you, being all cute and lying to yourself.” Marsten pinched my cheek, and I swatted his hand away.
I scoffed.
“Okay, spill.” He pointed at me with a long red nail that matched his gown perfectly. “If you don’t believe us, then tell us about the times you thought he might have feelings for you, and we’ll be the judges.”
“This is silly,” I said, not remotely wanting to delve into this. It didn’t matter if Cillian had feelings for me, which he didn’t. We couldn’t be together.
Meera peered up at me. “We’re waiting,” she said.
I huffed. “Okay, fine. Before Cillian became high prince, we were best friends. We always had been. And as we got older, I started thinking that maybe there was something between us. A spark. But I was young and afraid to say anything in case I was wrong. I didn’t want to humiliate myself.
Then there was this one day. Things had been weird between us for a month or so, Cillian seeming distracted when we were together, and I’d catch him staring at me a lot. ”
“Yeah, staring at those breasts, probably.” Marsten pointed at my cleavage. “I mean, I’m not even attracted to you, and I know that you have perfect breasts.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know that, but I never thought Cillian did. Anyway,” I said, “one day, he burst into my dress shop and said that he couldn’t hide it any longer, that he had something he wanted to tell me. I thought maybe he was going to admit his feelings for me.”
Marsten’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, this is juicy. So what happened?”
“He never got a chance to tell me. The crown appeared over his head, and he became high prince.”
Meera’s whiskers twitched. “What does that have to do with anything? Are you telling me that all these years, you two could have just admitted your feelings for each other and I wouldn’t have to be going through these ridiculous trials?”
“No,” I said, exasperated. “That’s not—it’s—”
Godwitches, I wasn’t sure why this was so hard to talk about, but suddenly, I didn’t care. I was tired of missing out on everything and everyone. They’d come here tonight. They cared about me. So I could share this piece of my life with them.
“I didn’t want Cillian to admit his feelings for me. I convinced myself he’d been about to tell me something else, and I, in turn, pushed all my feelings away.”
“Why?” Marsten asked. “I don’t understand. You two are clearly perfect for each other.”
Here it went. The truth. I’d never told anyone this other than Cillian. “I can’t leave my father. He’s ill. After we lost my mother and sister, something in him broke. He’s afraid to leave the house, afraid of me leaving. It’s not something that can be fixed.”
I’d tried. Cillian had called on some of the best professionals, sending couriers to towns all over Aubergn to see if anyone could help my father.
“I can’t leave him. I won’t,” I said. “It’s not an option.”
“Not even to go to the castle?” Meera wrinkled her nose.
Here it was. The judgment.
I shook my head. “The castle terrifies him. It’s full of magic. It shifts and moves people and rooms. My father needs routine, consistency, safety. The castle has none of that. He’d never move there with me, and as long as Cillian is high prince . . .”
“You can’t be with him,” Marsten said, understanding lighting his eyes.
“There has to be a solution,” Meera said. “You can’t be telling me absolutely nothing can be done.”
Except that was exactly what I was saying. I shrugged helplessly. “Cillian deserves better than someone who can’t even be with him. He’s been using drugs all these years, and I never even knew. I’m supposed to be his best friend. Above everyone, I should’ve known.”
“Unless you were the one person he especially didn’t want to know.” Marsten nudged me. “You can’t blame yourself, Ceri. And Cillian would be a lucky, lucky man to have you in any capacity.”
“I agree,” Meera said. “He’s a five at best. You’re a twelve.”
“I actually agree for once.” Marsten tipped his head. “Well, except Cillian is probably at least an eight.”
I laughed.
“Don’t give up hope,” he said, letting out a yawn. “Oh, goodness. I’m tired. All this looking fabulous has drained me.”
“Oh, godwitches,” Meera mumbled. “You know, I took a bath today. Does anyone notice how glossy my fur is?”
Marsten stood. “It’s late. We should be getting home, and you need some sleep before you visit your prince tomorrow.”
“What?” I asked.
Meera pointed a claw at me. “You have to visit him. Even I know that.”
“And you have to talk to him. Enough secrets,” Marsten said.
I chewed on my bottom lip, not sure I was ready for this. Not sure Cillian was ready for it. After all, he was still recovering, and I had no idea what that process would even look like. Maybe I’d talk to Enid first, get her opinion.
“We should do this again,” Meera was saying as they walked toward the door. “So much quieter than Deerborn.”
“I agree,” Marsten said. “I say we make this a weekly date. Wine and cheese at Ceri’s.”
My heart swelled, and I nodded. “I’d like that,” I said quietly.
“Good night,” Marsten called in a singsong voice as he opened the door.
“Sleep tight,” Meera said. “Because tomorrow you’re going to go get your man.”